


i'm sinking deeper (reaching for the end of the light)

by moodyreindeer



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-12-17 08:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21051695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodyreindeer/pseuds/moodyreindeer
Summary: "I'm just so tired."post 3.04, rewrite of 3.05 - when all is said and done, Buck is just really fucking tired of feeling alone.





	i'm sinking deeper (reaching for the end of the light)

**Author's Note:**

> title from demons by hayley kiyoko.
> 
> as i write this i haven't seen any of season one and only clips of season two or three. all my knowledge comes from clips and tumblr posts, so forgive me if the characters are ooc.
> 
> i'm mainly writing this because the beginning of season three is just??? ignoring that buck has so much trauma and is literally the youngest member of 118???? what the fuck, let the poor man rest.
> 
> hopefully the show has more scenes centered around his recovery and healing process, but until then, here's this.
> 
> some quick context: the arbitration hearing still happens, but eddie never gets into street fighting and buck still drops the lawsuit after the settlement.

When he left the lawyer’s office, he’d been pissed. Now, eight hours later after a school evac drill and a domestic dispute case ended in flames, he just misses him.

The anger is still there, but it’s more exasperated than it is furious.

And, more presently, he’s hurt. He feels like there’s a knife in his side, and someone twists the blade every time Christopher asks when he can see Buck again.

He tries his best. He tells Christopher that Buck doesn’t feel so well, that he’s just resting for a while.

“Even Superman needs to sleep, right, little man?”

When his son asks when Buck will play with him again and he replies _ soon_, he wants to cut his own tongue out.

After a tense dinner of avoiding Buck-related questions, Eddie is starting Christopher’s bedtime routine when Maddie calls. 

He leaves his son to pick out his pajamas for the night, taking the call into the hallway, shutting the bedroom door with a soft _ snick_. His stomach pools with dread, but he doesn’t really know why. It isn’t often Maddie calls him—that anyone calls him, really. Most news that needs to be broken usually gets a text.

“Hey, Maddie, how’re you doing?”

“Eddie, have you talked to Buck recently?”

“Not since the meeting this morning.” He doesn’t know if the lawsuit drama extends to Buck and Maddie’s relationship, if the younger man gives his sister more thought than he does the rest of them, but he figures she had to have found out about the meeting one way or another. “Why?”

There’s a rustle, a faint, incoherent voice in the background. Chimney, probably.

“I just - I’ve been trying to reach him all day and it just goes to voicemail.”

There’s a faint thud as Christopher slams his dresser drawer with a little too much enthusiasm. Eddie can make out the little noises of feet moving, attempting to dress by himself. Content that he hasn’t fallen or bumped anything, Eddie takes a few steps away from the door.

“He’s probably just pouting - maybe his lawyer gave him bad news or something.”

Maddie sighs, unconvinced. “He stopped answering his phone yesterday. I thought he was just preparing for today, but I keep calling and texting and...nothing. It’s like he’s dropped off the face of the earth.”

She says this admission in a quiet tone that sounds something akin to awe, like a worshipper that has stumbled upon proof of their god and immediately wishes they hadn’t. 

Movement has ceased on the other side of the door; Eddie can picture his son patiently sitting on his bed, waiting for his tuck-in and goodnight.

Maddie’s voice turns watery. Chimney’s voice grows louder in the background as he gets closer, but his words are still nonsensical noise.

“Please, Eddie, I know it’s late and you got Christopher but you live closer. C-could you check on him, please?”

Eddie sucks in a deep breath. Part of him is consumed with refueled anger. Anger at Buck, for the lawsuit and his stubbornness and his need to never stay still, for making him worry. Anger at himself for putting his friend on the back burner, even when Christopher yelled out his name some nights. Anger at Bobby for not just communicating with Buck like an adult before that jackass lawyer stuck his nose into their family business.

But mostly, he’s just worried. Buck’s known for sulking and pouting, but he always talked to Maddie, even when he wouldn’t talk to the rest of them. Maddie was his family in a way the rest of the 118 couldn’t be; if Buck couldn’t even open himself to her, that didn’t fare well for the results Eddie would get.

But it’s Buck.

“I can get to his place in ten minutes. I’ll let you know how it goes, okay?”

Maddie sobs her relief, thanking him until her words trip over themselves. Eddie gently bids her goodbye and hangs up the phone.

When he knocks on the door and pokes his head back in the bedroom, Chris sits on the bed and beams at his father like he knows exactly what he’s going to say.

Eddie musters up a smile. “How do you feel about a sleepover?”

* * *

For all his excitement, Christopher falls asleep five minutes into the drive. Eddie carries him to the door and attempts to keep the jostling to a minimum as he reaches for the spare key Maddie helpfully texted to inform him existed.

The apartment sits dark and still as he enters, closing the door silently behind him. He takes note of the kitchen and dining room as he walks through - no carry out containers, no dirty dishes or napkins. There isn’t even sign of beer bottles. He doesn’t know if he should be relieved or concerned, so both take up residence in his chest.

Eddie lays Christopher down on the couch and covers him with a blanket. Once his son is settled and showing no signs of distress, he backtracks to the kitchen and snoops. The fridge is almost bare save for some condiment jars that don’t look used. The dishwasher is full of clean dishes but there doesn’t seem to be any rush to take care of them.

With a pit in his stomach, Eddie takes the stairs. He flicks a light on, a warning of his presence if the other man hadn’t heard him moving downstairs, but there’s no point - the bed is a hurricane of tossed sheets, empty. He frowns, remembering Buck’s car sitting in the driveway when he pulled up, and starts down the hallway.

He stops, nearly tripping over something sprawled in the middle of the floor.

“Buck?”

He leans down, hands immediately going to his neck, his wrist. A pulse beats, erratic but strong, underneath sweat-soaked skin.

“Jesus, Buck, what’re you doing?” With effort, Eddie pulls him partially into his lap.

It takes a moment for the younger man to open his eyes, settle a bleary gaze at Eddie.

He lolls his head away, lifting a hand before the effort gets too much and just drops it back in his lap.

“Bathroom,” Buck answers hoarsely. “Needed to…”

Eddie cups his face, takes in the coat of sweat and flushed cheeks, the redness of his eyes.

“Buck, are you okay to move?”

“I don’t know...think so?”

Exhaling a sharp breath, Eddie struggles to bring both of them to their feet. The younger man struggles to stop the shaking in his legs, so Eddie wraps an arm around his waist and drags him to the bathroom. With one hand he flicks the light on, making Buck whimper as the light hits his eyes.

How long had he been laying in that dim hallway? How long would it have been for someone to find him if Eddie hadn’t come over?

He pushes the dreadful thought away. Carefully, Eddie deposits Buck on the closed toilet lid.

The warm light only makes Buck look more sickly. His shirt clings to him, his sweat forming a sticky paste that glues the fabric to him, along with his hair to his forehead.

Eddie leans over and turns on the shower.

Buck startles at the sound of water running, as if he hadn’t seen the older man move.

“You’ll feel better if you’re clean.” He gently tugs at Buck’s shirt until he’s raising his arms so he can pull it over his head.

Slowly, Buck steps underneath the hot spray; Eddie closes the curtain for him and takes the vacated toilet seat.

He tries to remember. Had Buck looked so unwell this morning? It’s hard to conjure the scene - his own emotions cloud his memory too much. The younger man looked guilty, hanging his head like a kicked puppy, but Eddie hadn’t thought he looked like he was going to topple over.

_ Or are you telling yourself that so you aren’t the sick bastard that’s angry with a person in pain? _ his mind asks him.

Unable - unwilling, more like - to answer the question, Eddie focuses on the blonde man’s shadow. His movements are fatigued, like he’s marching through quicksand, but his outlined figure scrubs itself with soap, rinses out its hair.

Eddie ducks underneath the sink and pulls out a towel. He picks the newest-looking one, the one that looks the thickest and has retained most of its softness through being washed. He sets it on the toilet tank so Buck has easy access.

Then he waits. He wants to snoop, pick through the medicine cabinet and read the labels, like he would if he was at his parents’ and thought they were hiding a health scare from him, but he’s afraid of what he might find. This is Buck, after all. How well does he really know him, outside of work and his son?

Does he know about his family? If he has meds he has to take? Is he depressed, anxious, lonely, traumatized?

Eddie’s too scared of what he might find. Too scared of his image of the younger man being wrecked.

He wouldn’t have the time, anyway; the water shuts off moments later. Buck keeps the curtain shut, but does reach out a hand to yank the towel inside with him.

Eddie excuses himself before the quiet seconds can grow into an awkward silence. “I’ll go get you some clothes.”

It takes some exploring, but Eddie eventually discovers the drawer that houses most of his sleepwear. He grabs a clean pair of boxers, some sweatpants, and a blank T-shirt.

When he reenters the bathroom, Buck is standing outside the shower, towel loosely wrapped around his waist, and he slowly blinks at Eddie like a frightened child, awaiting instructions on what to do next. 

Wordlessly, Eddie hands him the pile of clothes, then retreats to the hallway to give him a flimsy sort of privacy.

After Buck gets dressed, Eddie leads him back to his bedroom; he has him sit so he can towel dry his hair. Buck’s head lolls as Eddie massages his scalp through the towel, his fingers paying special attention to the knots at his neck. Done with the towel, Eddie runs his hands through his hair to slick it back - he likes how long Buck’s hair has grown. Makes it easy to play with.

After a few more self-indulgent moments, Eddie leaves to hang up the wet towel. In the bathroom, he notices the boxers he’d grabbed sitting on the corner of the sink. For reasons he can’t presently address, the thought of Buck wearing nothing underneath his sweats goes straight to his dick, but he smothers the image before he can sprout an untimely erection. When he returns, Buck is listing sideways, dangerously close to careening over the edge and landing face-first on the floor.

A small smile appearing at the site, Eddie hurries over and lays him down before he can fall.

Buck’s eyes crack open as he turns to leave. A hand, nearly as callous as his own, reaches out to grab his wrist.

“Can you stay?” he asks in a whisper.

Eddie eyes the railing. He can’t see Christopher from here, but he’s been keeping an ear out all night - his son hasn’t even whimpered. His dead-sleep is a rarity, has been since the tsunami, but it’s like Buck’s apartment is the ultimate coping mechanism. Still, he wants to be close to his son. Just in case.

He looks back at the younger man in bed. His hand is still locked around his wrist loosely, but he blinks continuously - it’s a struggle for him to stay awake, to see what Eddie decides. A part of him knows that if he gently explains about Christopher, the blonde will let him go with no further arguments.

_ But will he sleep as soundly as Christopher is right now? _the voice in the back of Eddie’s head asks. 

“Alright. Scoot over.” Eddie settles in next to him, propping himself against the headboard. Buck seems content just to lie next to him, feel his body heat and know he’s not alone, but Eddie pulls him closer, until his head rests on Eddie’s stomach and Eddie has a hand settled into the crook of his neck and spine. 

“Can you tell me a story?” Buck mumbles.

Eddie swipes his thumb over the back of his neck. “What kind of story?”

“A long one. I want to keep hearing your voice.”

He glanced down at the man in his arms, equal parts surprised and pleased, but the younger man showed no signs of registering the implications of his words.

“Okay, let me think. Once there was this boy…”

* * *

In the morning, Eddie lets Buck sleep. He makes breakfast before waking Christopher, giving his son the duty of rousing the blonde man awake after the pancakes are golden and stacked, the eggs are scrambled, and the bacon is crisp.

Christopher accepts his duty eagerly, walking into sight of the loft and shrieking Buck’s name joyfully.

When Buck peers over the landing, the confusion on his face melts away and a beaming smile takes its place.

“Chris! What’re you doing here, buddy?”

“Daddy said you needed a sleepover!” Christopher crows excitedly as Bucks comes downstairs. He turns to pout at his father. “But then he let me sleep through all of it.”

Buck chuckles, coming forward to hug the kid to his legs. “We can spend all day together, right, bud?”

“Really?”

“Yup, I’m yours.”

Eddie watches the interaction take place as he fills his son’s plate first - a small pancake and a pile of scrambled eggs, no bacon.

Bucks leans down so his nose can be buried in the top of Christopher’s head. Eddie’s heart aches because he knows what he’s doing - he’s done it himself more times than he can count. He never believed his mother when she said all babies have their own smell, but Eddie could pick Christopher out of a crowded room, blind and deaf. His son still smells the same way he did on the day he was born, when he held him in his arms for the first time. That smell could pull him from the darkest abyss.

Judging from the look of pure relief that comes over Buck’s face, he thinks so, too.

Christopher giggles, wiggling out Buck’s grasp so he can start digging into his food. Buck sits back and watches for a few minutes, the softest look Eddie’s ever seen on his face.

“We have a lot of catching up to do,” Christopher informs him solemnly as he carefully cuts his pancake with his fork.

Buck nods in agreement, still smiling, but looking a little more somber. His eyes cloud as if he’s reliving the past month spent in separation all over again. “We sure do, bud. I want to know everything.”

Christopher gives him a syrupy smile, then begs to catch up while they watch Disney movies on their couch.

Never one to deny him anything, Buck happily agrees.

The two of them spend the majority of the day doing just that, sitting close on the couch and talking over Disney movie after Disney movie. Eddie hangs back, refreshing drinks when necessary, pretending to be doing important things on his phone.

Once the afternoon rolls around, Eddie regretfully tells his son they have to leave.

“But why?” His son is aghast at the thought of leaving Buck, and from the droop of the blonde’s mouth, he isn’t thrilled, either.

“Because, _ mijo_, you have that birthday party to go to, remember?”

“But Buck - ”

The other man snaps into action quickly. “Chris, you can’t miss a birthday party! Think of the games, the _ cake and ice cream_.” He leans forward and waggles his eyebrows, which perks Chris up immediately.

“And you’ve already got his present,” Eddie gently reminds him.

Buck feigns a shocked gasp. “If you don’t give someone their present on their birthday, you’ve broken the most sacred birthday law.”

Christopher giggles. “That’s not a thing!”

“Of course it’s a thing. Would I lie to you?”

Christopher considers this for a moment before shaking his head solemnly. “But we can play together soon, right?”

Buck smiles in that soft way Eddie has discovered he only does for himself or his son. “Yeah, buddy, any time you want.”

Eddie busies himself with clearing the table and getting Christopher’s shoes as his son crawls into his best friend’s lap and hugs him tightly. It seems more than just a goodbye - it’s an assurance to himself that the blonde man is there and he isn’t going anywhere.

“I’m sorry to stick you with cleaning the dishes,” Eddie apologizes as he corrals his son out the door. “I can come back after I’ve dropped him off and do them if you want?”

Buck waves him off. “Nah, you go ahead. It’ll give me something to do.” 

Eddie searches his friend’s face, but he doesn’t know what he’s looking for, not entirely. Coming up empty, he warily bids the younger man goodbye and heads out the door.

* * *

A week after the weekend at Buck’s, Buck is officially reinstated for active duty and has his first day back at the firehouse. Eddie had been pleasantly surprised to hear the news, but wary. After seeing him in such a vulnerable state, much of the anger he held in his chest dissipated, but skepticism and worry remained. It was satisfying to know the lawsuit had been dropped, but that didn’t mean his medical problems miraculously disappeared. He could respect an urgency to return to a sense of normalcy, but well-being always takes first priority - something Buck has yet to learn.

Naturally, the firehouse drops ten degrees on Buck’s first day back. Eddie tries to be civil, but he can’t stop himself from being standoffish - every time he looks at him all he can see is the handful of times he’s been on death’s doorstep and wants to shake him for rushing his recovery. 

Chimney and Hen are perfectly friendly, if a little delicate with the youngest teammate. Bobby is curt, formal, edging on disinterest. Their other teammates follow their captain’s lead and look at the returnee with nothing short of disgust, as if they can’t fathom how Bobby could’ve let him return.

Eddie feels bad, but does nothing to stop it. Actions have consequences - if that’s something his son can understand, Buck should too. 

As the week continues, though, guilt gnaws at him. The cold shoulder treatment continues, and at first, Buck seemed to be taking it well enough, gluing himself to Hen or Chimney. He even attempts to attend station dinners, but eventually stops when everyone sits in awkward silence, unwilling to placate him with small talk.

On one occasion, when Eddie’s taking care of his plate, he peers over the balcony and sees Buck laying into a punching bag. The muscles of his arms bulge, taut and well-used, but his shirt looks baggier than he remembers. 

After the third meal skipped, Eddie devises a plan. First, he gets the weekend off. Then he asks Maddie and Chimney to spend it with Christopher. His son knows Chim and likes him plenty, but Maddie hasn’t been around Chris as much as the others. She’s sweet and loves his son as much as the rest of them do, but Christopher can be a lot to keep up with, especially over one weekend.

Christopher, immune to his father’s apprehension, is over the moon about his upcoming adventure. He loves sleepovers, whether they’re at Eddie’s abuela's or at Buck’s, and is holding this weekend in high regard before he’s even stepped foot inside the house.

In order to qualm his own fears and tire out his son, Eddie takes him to the grocery store. He’s written out a list of simple foods to stock Buck’s kitchen with: fruits and vegetables, milk, juice, easy meal items, things to last. He doesn’t know much about his friend’s cooking abilities, but figure they must be sufficient enough to have kept him alive for this long.

Christopher holds himself on tip-toe, supported by his crutches, and eyes the gourd Eddie weighs in his hand.

“Is that for Buck?”

“Yeah, bud.”

His son eyes the green and yellow vegetable, taking in the irregular bumps and the curved shape. “It looks sick. Are you sure that’s going to make Buck feel better?”

“It’s supposed to look like that. Promise.”

Christopher doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t say anything more as Eddie bags it, along with a lumpy orange gourd shaped like a hump, and moves along. As a thank you for the couple, he picks out a wine he knows they both like and lets Chirstopher pick out a box of chocolates. 

In their own bedrooms, the Diaz men pack bags for their weekend. Christopher fills his backpack with different activities - his favorite coloring book, a few action figures, a couple movies he loves to watch on repeat. He also picks out what pajamas and outfits he wants to spend the weekend in, then sets his finished bags by his bedroom door like his father requested. 

Eddie’s bags are a little more complex. He packs his toiletries and a few changes of clothes, and also nestles in a book on PTSD and depression a therapist recommended to him after his first tour. Then, he goes into the kitchen makes sure all the groceries he bought for Buck are neatly packed away in reusable grocery bags.

Satisfied there’s nothing left for him to prepare, he goes to collect Christopher and set them on their way.

Eddie shouldn’t have worried. As soon as Maddie opens the door Christopher is beaming at her. All Buckleys must have a charm that Christopher can’t resist - or vice versa.

“Hi, Chris! Come on in!” She leaves the door open and lets Christopher enter at his own pace, which Eddie appreciates; not everyone is as courteous of his son’s independent streak as he is. 

“Thanks so much for watching him, Maddie.” Eddie holds out the wine and chocolates.

Maddie takes it, looking like she wants to wave him off but too polite to do so. “You know we love your son, Eddie, it’s fine. Thank _ you _ for looking out for my brother.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. He hadn’t told anyone about his plan or why he took the weekend off, but Maddie smiles at him as if they’re in on some private joke. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you request the same weekend off that Buck doesn’t have to work, especially after the night you found him. It’s good - my brother needs to know he has people in his corner.”

He shrugs. “He’s my best friend. He would do the same for me.”

Maddie gives him a look that lasts a little too long, reading him for something but he doesn’t know what. After a heartbeat she promises to return his son to him in one piece, and Eddie lets himself inside long enough to kiss Christopher goodbye before heading off.

When he arrives, he knocks instead of immediately going for the spare key like his brain is screaming at him to do. After three rounds of loud, rapid knocking, he lets himself inside. Much like the first night the apartment is still, and eerily clean. He does spot a pan sitting in the sink, holding some sudsy water, which loosens the knot in his stomach.

“Buck?” The living room’s empty, TV untouched. He takes the stairs, making his steps loud to alert him of his presence. It doesn’t matter - when he reaches the top he sees an unmoving lump underneath the covers, either ignorant of his presence or unbothered by it.

“Buck, rise and shine.” He tugs at the nearest corner of the comforter only to have it violently yanked out of his grasp.

“Fuck off.”

He sighs. “Seriously, you need to get up.”

An angry mop of blonde bedhead pokes up. “Seriously, I don’t _ need _ to do anything,” Buck mocks, then flops back down, rolling over to block out Eddie’s face. “It’s my day off.”

“If you have enough energy to give me this much attitude, then you have enough energy to get downstairs and eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Have you gotten out of bed all day?” It’s nearing six in the evening.

“None of your business.”

Eddie sighs again. Feeling beneath the thick comforter, he finds two ankles and pulls hard. Buck flails, in a second of peer blind panic as the lower half of his body is harshly yanked off the bed, but recovers enough to twist around and glare at the other man. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Eddie drops his ankles. “Get downstairs. Dinner will be ready in twenty.”

He turns and goes back downstairs without looking to see if he’s followed. He acquaints himself with the kitchen, finding the pots and pans and putting away the groceries he doesn’t intend to use.

Eddie is not a master chef by any means, but he knows basic things. He boils some water for pasta, gets out a sauce pan and cuts some squash into thin pieces, lets them sit in seasoned olive oil and turn a delicious brown.

He hears stomps coming down the stairs but keeps his attention on the stove. As he dumps the penne into the water, he hears a dull noise as a bodily heavily flops onto the couch. The TV turns on seconds, channels various flipping by until it stops on an old movie he doesn’t recognize. The volume ticks up, a clear guard against conversation.

He sighs. He’s out of bed - it’s progress.

Once the pasta is cooked he adds in the tomato sauce, drains the pasta and lets the sauce simmer a bit before scooping a little of each onto a plate. He grabs a slice of bread and spreads a generous layer of butter on it before folding it and setting in on a napkin. Satisfied, he picks up the meal and carries it into the living room, setting it in front of the sulking man.

He snatches the remote and mutes the movie. “Eat.”

Buck keeps staring straight ahead. “I’m not hungry.”

“Buck, I haven’t seen you eat a meal at work in forever. I know you haven’t had anything to eat all day. Quit being so stubborn and eat for God’s sake.”

Angry blue eyes tinged with redness cut to him. “I’m. Not. Hungry.”

Eddie picks up a fork and skewers a piece of squash, winds some pasta around it before lifting it. “I will forcefed you if I have to, Buck.”

A staring contest ensues, Buck narrowing his eyes at the forkful of food Eddie holds threateningly close mouth. After his arm moves as if to shove the food into his mouth, Buck sighs and takes the fork from him, locking his lips around it. When he goes to take a second bite, pointedly ignoring Eddie as he pulls the plate into his lap, Eddie gets up to make his own plate.

They eat their meal in relative silence, the movie playing in the background. Eddie doesn’t even try to be discreet about looking at Buck, but Buck keeps his face forward, even though his eyes have a glazed quality that implies he isn’t really paying attention to the movie, anyway.

When Eddie sets down his dirty plate, Buck snatches it and takes it with his own into the kitchen. Eddie pauses, listening to the sound of running water and the clink of silverware, wondering if he should be relieved Buck voluntarily moved or worried in this sudden unexpected turn in productivity.

He counts to five, then follows him into the kitchen. 

He leans against the opposite counter, crosses his arms, and watches the way Buck’s back muscles move underneath his shirt as he scrubs the plates with most force than strictly necessary. He tries to think of something to say, but the only thought coming to his head is how red and glossy the pasta sauce made Buck’s mouth look.

The younger man beats him to it. With a stunning clatter, the clean plates are dropped on a dish towel to dry, clanking against each other in a way that threatens cracking.

“Alright, you’ve checked my pulse, fed me food. I’m alive, now you can take your eased conscience and get out.”

Eddie straightens up. “I’m not leaving.”

Buck snorts, laughing at a joke he doesn’t think is funny. “Jesus Christ, what do you want from me, man?”

“I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“You want to make sure _ I’m okay_?” Buck parrots back viciously. He spins around, reaches back to grip the counter edge in shaking fists. “Months of getting treated like shit for things I can’t control, and it only occurs to you _ now _ to wonder if I’m okay?” He snorts again, in that same dry, bitter way. “Yeah, I’m fan-fucking-tastic. Now get the hell out of my apartment.”

Eddie feels his nostrils flare. “What the hell is your problem, man? You’ve finally gotten everything you wanted and you’re acting like a kid throwing a temper tantrum.”

“You think I wanted this?”

“Considering you sued us, yeah, I think you did.”

Buck’s mouth opens and closes a few times before shutting tight enough to make his teeth clack. “I wanted my job back. I wanted _ my life _back. Bobby didn’t leave me any other options.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You’re the one who quit, Buck. He didn’t take away your job - he put your best interest first, god forbid, and you acted like a spoiled brat.”

“He pushed me away! I worked my ass off, did everything right, and every time I was close to the finish line he kept pushing it back.” Angrily, Buck reaches up to swipe at his eyes. “And worst of all, none of you even seemed to care. You just let him do whatever like you didn’t even want me back.”

Stalking closer, Eddie points a furious finger in Buck’s direction. “You’re the one who pushed us away. Did it ever occur to you to reach out and talk to one of us? Vent your feelings, explain yourself? No, you had to do what you always do and jump to the most ridiculous answer. That damn lawsuit is what kept us apart.”

Buck turns away; Eddie can see the muscles in his jaw clench as he grinds his teeth together. “If I had gone to any of you, would you have even cared?”

Eddie stumbles, bewildered. “What the hell are you talking about, man?”

The younger man continues to stare out the window. From a profile view, it’s clear that tears are gathering in his eyes; he rapidly blinks, trying to keep them at bay, but a few spill over, anyway. Run down his face and drip off his chin.

“After the fire truck, how many times did you visit? Reach out, ask how I was doing? Two, three times? And when the tsunami was over with, did you ever ask how I was doing? No. I get it - you’d just lost your wife, but how many nights did I text you to make sure you were alright? That Christopher was alright? Would have been so hard to send a _ hey, how’s the leg_? And how many times did you drop Christopher off when Carla was on vacation? You couldn’t be bothered to ask if I was alright?” Buck sniffs, wipes stubbornly at his nose and wipes the snot off on his sweats. “Shit, man, you’re my best friend - it hurt like hell to realize I wasn’t yours.”

Eddie feels his heart drop into his stomach. “How the fuck could you ever think that?” he whispers in horror.

Buck glanced at him with red eyes. “It’s not like it matters - I’ll still be there for you and Christopher no matter what, as long as you let me. I just...I thought it was a two-way street.”

“It is!” Eddie insists. He covers the distance between them, maneuvering around the table until his can reach out and grasp Buck’s arms. He forces him to meet his eyes. “It absolutely is. Never, ever think otherwise.”

Buck drinks in his face, searching it for sincerity. “Then why were you so mad at me?”

“Because you took you away from me.” At Buck’s confused look, Eddie sighs, dropping his hands from his forearms to wrists, not quite able to bring himself to hold his hands.

“Christopher has been struggling since the tsunami. It’s gotten better, but he still has nightmares. About the water and his mother. He would wake some nights and ask for you, but I didn’t let him call you because I didn’t want to scare you, or make you feel guilty. But he just kept asking and asking for you, wanting to make sure you were okay, so I thought it was finally time to clue you in, see how’d you handle it.” Eddie attempts to smile, but his mouth doesn’t quite work the way he wants it to. “You seemed so happy as a fire marshal. You were making good progress. But the night I go to call you so Christopher can fall asleep to the sound of your voice, Cap calls me. Said you were suing the department and we couldn’t talk to you.”

Buck flinches as if he’s been physically hit. He turns his head, but Eddie gently grips his neck in both hands, leans forward until their foreheads are touching.

“I was mad because everything was going wrong at a time when I needed it to go right. I couldn’t see you, couldn’t talk to you. You’re my best friend, and I _ needed _ you.”

Buck closes his eyes. From this close, Eddie can see the way tears cling to his long, pale lashes. “I was trying to get back to you. With the lawsuit, with all the pushing - I wanted to be by your side again. But you were so mad when I came back - ”

“Because it felt like you were playing with your life. After the truck, then the tsunami - I thought you would stick with the fire marshal gig and just slow down for a while. I know being stuck behind a desk would’ve been torture for you, but at least I would’ve known you were alive and safe.” Eddie sighs, surprising himself with how shaky and wet it sounds. “When I saw you walk in, expecting everything to be the same, I just felt like you didn’t think you’re life was important enough to keep safe.”

Buck sniffs. Eddie feels a hesitant hand link through the belt loops of his jeans. “You have a funny way of showing you care,” he says with a pout, but at least he opens his eyes and meets Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie gives a small laugh. “I know, I’m working on it.”

They stand there for a few moments, just holding each other. Eddie takes in the wetness of the big blue eyes in front of him and the way Buck’s plump lips are slightly parted.

Slowly, carefully, Eddie leans in and brings their lips together.

He tries to be gentle, cupping his neck and cradling his face with his thumbs. He keeps his tongue at bay, no matter how desperately he wants to map the younger man’s mouth with it, make their teeth clash. But the blonde feels so fragile in his grasp that he wills himself to keep the kiss slow.

When he finally pulls away, Buck seems stunned. It takes seconds for his eyes to open, and when he looks at Eddie again, he’s surprised to see a renewal of tears spilling over.

“Buck, what’s wrong?” he whispers, brushing the tears away.

The blonde shudders at the sound of his name. As if shaking himself from a trance, he rears his head away and pulls out of his grasp, walking so the dinner table is between them once more. “Don’t, don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” Eddie can feel his heart crumpling up. He thought, even after all the anger of the past few weeks, that he felt the same.

“Don’t - don’t take pity on me.” Buck spits out. His mouth pulls back in an ugly sneer. “I don’t need you to kiss me just to make me feel better. Don’t act like you feel the same.”

“I’m not acting,” Eddie insists. He closes the distance between once more, reaching out and finally giving into the urge to lock their hands together. “This isn’t about pity or just making you feel better, _ mi amor_.” He brings their hands up and brushes his lips across the back of his hand, rubs his knuckles against his cheek. “I’m here, I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Buck freezes. “You love me?”

Eddie nods gently. “Yeah, _ mi amor_. I do. Is that okay?”

Buck sucks in a shuddering breath and lets it out just as brokenly. “Y-yeah. It is. I just - I just don’t know if I can say it back right now.”

Eddie reaches out, giving him time to back away, and cups his neck. “That’s okay. Take your time.”

He embraces him, settling his head on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around his back. Buck buries his nose into the crook of his neck, places his hands on his hips.

“Will you sleep with me tonight?” Buck asks into the shoulder of his shirt. “Nothing sexual. I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

Eddie kisses the crown of his head. “Of course. Whatever you want.”

Eddie leads him up the stairs. They change into pajamas, then shyly crawl underneath the covers. At first, Eddie keeps his distance, but Buck turns his head to him and holds out a hand, so he pulls him closer, until he’s partially sitting up and the younger man is tucked into his chest. He buries a hand into his hair, teasing his nails across his scalp. 

Eddie scrapes his fingers back and forth, loving the way Buck’s body relaxes into him. The younger man is heavy, all lean muscle, but he can take it.

“I’m so tired,” Buck mumbles into his shoulder. Eddie meets his blinking gaze, the blue of his eyes bleary with exhaustion and something else, something bone-deep and hefty.

Eddie shifts so that Buck’s head rests in the crook of his arm, the blonde’s arm wrapped around his waist. To an outsider, it would look like a lover’s embrace.

“Then go to sleep.” Eddie gives a small smile. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Buck buries his face in the warm skin of Eddie’s arm, closing his eyes.

“Sometimes, I wish I didn’t have to wake up.”

The soft admission makes Eddie’s blood run cold. He tightens his grip as if Buck is about to be wrenched from his arms. The younger man’s breathing finally evens out, turning deep and steady, and Eddie is left with the words ringing in his ears.

* * *

Eddie sleeps fitfully all night. He spends hours looking at the way sleep smooths out Buck’s face until his eyes are struggling to stay open, and when he finally lets himself go, he wakes up on and off, reaching for Buck to assure himself he’s still there, still breathing. After two more times of startling awake, Eddie gives up and idly looks out the window, watching the sunrise as he holds Buck close.

The other man doesn’t wake up until the sun is fully risen and morning traffic is at its peak. Buck stares up at him from where he’s tucked underneath his arm, dopey with contentedness and sleep. Eddie has a strong impulse to reach out and touch his long, delicate eyelashes, but reins himself in before he can do anything embarrassing.

The longer their eyes meet, the more wrinkles return to Buck’s face. He sits up and scoots away until an arm’s length of space is between them.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes.

Eddie frowns. “Doing what?”

Buck curls in on himself as he waves a hand around his bedroom. “This. Why are you here, man? I’m a grown-ass adult and you got a kid that needs you.”

“Christopher is doing better. And I’m sure his recovery is only going to go up from here with us talking again. Right now, I’m worried about you.”

Buck picks at a loose thread. “Where is he, anyway?”

“Spending the weekend with Chim and Maddie.”

Blonde brows furrow. “Why not your grandmother or your aunt?”

“They’re visiting an uncle in Arizona. And Maddie was happy to watch him, because it meant someone was helping you.”

“I shouldn’t need help,” Buck mutters. “I’m a grown-ass adult.”

Eddie gets on his knees and crawls closer, turns his chin with two fingers so he’s facing him.

“Buck,” he says warmly, “it’s okay to need help sometimes. Everybody does - it doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

He leans in so his forehead is resting against Buck’s temple. The younger man allows the touch for a few heartbeats, then wriggles away and climbs out bed.

“Come on, let’s eat breakfast.”

Eddie watches as Buck goes downstairs, not looking back to see if he’s been followed.

He tries to convince himself he still has time to get through that thick skull. It’s only Saturday morning - he still has all day and all of Sunday.

By the time he makes it into the kitchen, he’s pleasantly surprised to see Buck digging out a fresh pan along with some items from the refrigerator. He sits down and quietly watches him make French toast and scrambled eggs. Eddie had expected to do all the cooking this weekend, but isn’t going to turn down seeing him do something other than mope around and bash himself.

Buck sets two identical plates down, both piled with scrambled eggs and three pieces of French toast. He grabs cups on his way to get maple syrup and juice.

“I hope you don’t want coffee,” he says as he sits down. “I ran out about a week ago and haven’t made it to the store.”

Eddie shakes his head and pours himself a glass of orange juice. “This is perfect, thank you, _ dulzura_.”

After thinking about it, he leans over and places a chaste kiss to the blonde’s lips.

When he pulls away, Buck is blushing to his ears.

Eddie smiles fondly as he picks up his fork. _ Adorable_.

Halfway through his meal, having some point reached and covered Buck’s hand with his own, the question falls off his tongue.

“Buck, did you mean what you said last night?”

The blonde eyes him wearily, halfheartedly lifting a forkful of egg to his mouth. “What did I say?”

“That you wish you wouldn’t wake up.”

The younger man pauses. Then he slowly sets down his fork, and refuses to lift his eyes from his plate.

“Buck?”

“I didn’t mean to tell you that,” he admits in a small voice. It makes the older man ache; it’s reminiscent of the tone Christopher would use when he thought he was in trouble.

Eddie stands from his seat, circling the table to kneel in front of Buck’s slouching figure. He holds onto Buck’s slack hands desperately.

“Evan, I need you to listen to me. If you’re thinking of hurting yourself - of _ taking your own life _\- then you need to talk to somebody. Get some professional help.”

Buck looks at where their locked hands rest in his lap. “I would never do it. I could never do that to Maddie, or Christopher, or you and the rest of the team.” He bites his lip before adding, “and I’m too afraid. I know that’s stupid to say since facing death is in my job description, but I don’t want to find out what’s on the other side. Not for a long time.”

“Then why would you say that?” Eddie prompts gently.

Buck shrugs. “I would never do it, but I can’t say it isn’t a tempting thought from time to time.”

Eddie reaches up to cup his face, rub his thumb along his cheekbone. His heart sings when Buck sinks into his touch. “_Corazón_, I’ll always be here for you. But I’m not gonna preach mental health etiquette at you when I have my own struggles. But I will ask if you’ll go see a therapist my army brothers go to. He’s old-fashioned but easy to get along with, tells you like it is. I think you’d like him.”

When Buck doesn’t say anything, just eyes him wearily, Eddie leans up to peck the cheek he isn’t holding. “I’m not asking you to make a decision right now,” he reassures him, “all I ask is that you think about it, please?”

Finally, Buck gives a short nod. “I’ll think about it.”

Eddie thanks him with a firm kiss.

Later, after a lazy lunch spent entangled on the couch as they watch raunchy comedies, Eddie writes down the name and number of the therapist’s office, tucking it into the coping book that had so far spent the weekend tucked away in his bag. Not wanting to pressure Buck with any more therapy talk, he leaves the book in plain sight on the coffee table.

As he’s washing their dirty dishes, he sees Buck pick up the book and read the back of it, looking pensive.

Eddie turns back to the sink and smiles to himself.

It’s progress.

* * *

“Did my plan work?” Eddie asks hours later. They’re tangled in bed, shirtless but wearing pants, partially underneath the covers. They watch mindless YouTube videos on Buck’s laptop. Eddie surprised him by pulling out a bar of white chocolate from his bag, his favorite because it’s the sweetest type, and slowly feeds it to him.

Buck accepts the piece Eddie holds out to him. Eddie shivers when he lightly nips the tips of his fingers as he swipes the chocolate with his tongue.

“What was your plan?” Buck asks, licking his lips.

Eddie brushes his finger down the length of his nose just to watch the way Buck’s face cutely wrinkles. “To bring you back,” he says simply. “Are you back?”

Buck thinks about it. “Getting there.”

Eddie feeds him another piece of chocolate. “I’ll count that as a win.”

Eventually the chocolate runs out, but Buck doesn’t let Eddie move his hand away. He nuzzles his nose against his pulsepoint, then presses kisses up his arm until he’s sitting up enough to make their lips meet. Buck wraps an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and pulls until their chests are touching and he can maneuver to straddle his lap.

Eddie licks into his mouth before dragging his lips down his jaw, gently nipping his throat then soothing the mild sting with kisses.

“Keep going?” Eddie mumbles into the skin of his neck. His fingers play with the waistband of his sweats, plucking it like a guitar string.

Buck nuzzles their cheeks together. “Please.”

Eddie tucks his hands underneath Buck’s shirt, but doesn’t remove it. He takes his time, letting his fingers roam the ridges of his abs, the hardness of his nipples. He kisses the beating pulse in his throat, breathes in his sweaty musky scent, and lets the moment stretch out. The man beneath him simply grips his hips and keeps them close, mildly grinding them together.

Eddie spends the night learning things he’d never let himself think about for too long before. He learns what areas Buck is ticklish in, how to make him keen. He discovers that he likes his hair pulled, just a little bit; he learns how he likes his dick jerked and sucked. He finds out the quickest way to make him come is pulling his nipples while digging his tongue into his slit, and that when he comes, he makes a gasping sound that sounds like crying.

He files every piece of it away, into the growing part of his brain dedicated to Buck. He hoards it all, greedy and wanting more.

Buck eventually tugs him up to face-level, panting and sweaty. Eddie is content to end their activity there, closing his eyes and pointedly ignoring the ache between his legs, when he feels lips against his neck. Buck gently moves him onto his back and kisses down his body, one hand gripping his shoulder while the other pulls his shorts down.

Eddie struggles his way through his arousal, failing to hold back a moan. “_Querido_, you don’t have to - ”

“I _ want _ to,” Buck insists, kissing a feather-light line down his chest. He stops once he reaches the waistband of his shorts, looks up at him through his lashes. “Can I keep going?”

After a heartbeat of consideration, Eddie tangles his fingers in that adorable mess of blonde hair and nods.

For all the rumors about Buck’s playboy history, he is surprisingly attentive and gentle. He acts timid, almost, keeping his movements slow and unintrusive, only getting a little harder when Eddie tugs his permission on his hair.

Eddie’s eyes rolls back and he arches his hips off the bed.

That night, he comes the hardest, quickest release he’s ever had.

* * *

  
They lounge around all Sunday morning until Eddie regretfully pulls himself away to get dressed. He promised Maddie he would pick up Christopher before evening, and plans to keep his word, no matter how much he wants to grind Buck into the mattress.

Buck walks him to the door and pulls him in for a long kiss. Once a hand starts to wander below his shirt, Eddie laughs into his mouth and pulls away.

“Will you be okay?” he asks tenderly.

Buck huffs fondly, rubbing his thumb along the bare skin of Eddie’s hip, his hand still under his shirt. “You’ll see me in two days - I think I’ll manage.”

Eddie can’t help the way his smile disappears as he flashes back to finding Buck sprawled out on the floor, totally helpless, all those nights ago.

“You had me worried for a while there,” he murmurs. “If you need me to stay - ”

“Eddie,” Buck interrupts gently, “go pick up Chris. I’ll be fine. And if I’m not, I’ll call you, and you can bring Christopher over for another sleepover.”

Buck pulls him closer for another kiss, this one firmer and shorter, then releases him and gives him a small push out the door.

“I’ll see you at work,” Buck promises, leaning against the doorway.

Eddie nods and, because he can’t himself (and he can actually do it now), kisses him once more before bounding to his truck.

The sound of Buck’s joyful laughter rings in his ears the entire drive to Maddie’s.

He spends the rest of the evening and all night with the biggest, cheesiest smile in place. His son only adds to his joy, regaling him with stories of all he did at Maddie’s, but mostly it’s the pleasant buzz of his lips and the melt of his heart that the thought of Buck does to his body that keeps him so happy.

He falls asleep beaming.

* * *

Eddie works on Monday; his next shift with Buck isn’t until Tuesday. When the blonde walks in, strap of his duffel bag gripped in a white fist, all eyes in the firehouse seem to follow him, even as conversations continue.

Hen and Chimney don’t bother hiding their worried curiosity, watching the youngest member stuff his bag in his locker, pull out his shirt and button it up. Bobby walks up to them, scolds them gently, but even his eyes are drawn to him, looking for cracks in the facade.

Eddie waits; if the weekend had taught him anything, it was that sometimes all Buck needs is someone with a little bit of patience. 

Buck takes the stairs, greets them at the balcony with a small smile and a soft greeting.

Hen and Chimney take this as their cue to fill the silence with snappy banter, complaining about the last call of the night before, which included a beauty vlogger fighting with her parkour boyfriend. 

As they go back and forth, Buck holds out his hand.

Eddie readily takes it.

Buck squeezes once. _ Still here? _he seems to ask.

  
Eddie squeezes in return and interlocks their fingers. _ Always_.

**Author's Note:**

> sex is weird to write.
> 
> in case you couldn't tell, eddie calling buck terms of endearments is my kink.
> 
> come say hey on my [tumblr](http://spideypetes.tumblr.com).


End file.
